


Eulogy for a Speedster

by Knightfalling_for_you



Category: The Flash - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Flash Rogues, Gen, Grief, The Rogues give a proper send-off, spoilers for the end of season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:26:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightfalling_for_you/pseuds/Knightfalling_for_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rogues always give a proper send-off, even if it isn't to one of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eulogy for a Speedster

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 

Artemis shouldn’t be visiting the grave again; she knows that. Every time she goes back, it’s just another sprinkle of salt in the wound. But at the same time, there’s a hollow feeling in her chest telling her she needs to be there. She mentioned this to ~~Barry~~ Call-me-Uncle-Barry once.

_“I know,” he said to her, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. “I feel the same way every time I think about Wally or my mother. You go back because you feel responsible, like you’ve got to make sure he’s not alone. But at the same time, you have to remember that you’re not alone either, Artemis.”_

The odd thing is, she’s actually _not_ alone tonight. When Artemis enters the cemetary, she notices a lot of people standing around Wally’s tombstone, people she’s never seen before. She hides behind a cluster of nearby trees to watch them, curious to know what’s going on. Instinctively, she feels like she can’t go over to the group; she feels like they’ve got a bond she doesn’t share. Not the same psychic link she’s grown accustomed to sharing with her team, but a powerful bond all the same.

The people she sees aren’t dressed in your typical mourning attire, but they wear somber expressions all the same. A man at the forefront, who seems to be the group’s leader, wears a dark blue parka (even though it’s a hot summer night) and black pants. His hair is dark brown and buzzed short; his face is clean-shaven. He stands apart from the others, slightly detached.

On his right is a man dressed in a dark gray jacket shirt and jeans. He’s bulkier and taller than the first guy, with almost no hair except for a five-o’clock-shadow. Side-by-side, he and the first man look like two opposites, but of the same mind.

On the left of the first man is a woman with blonde hair that looks golden when the moonlight bounces off of it. She’s the only girl of the group, but she doesn’t seem to care. She wears a short black dress with a leather jacket on top, and heels so sharp they could inflict stab wounds. Artemis briefly wonders if that’s what they’re for.

The blonde woman is on the arm of a dapper man with slick black hair, dressed in a sharp dark green suit. He’s the most formal of the crew. He’s set apart from them somewhat, like he’s only here because his girlfriend asked him to be.

Back on the right, there’s a teenage boy with bright blonde hair that looks like it’s been stuck in an electrical socket. The boy himself has a similarly wild look in his eyes. His fashion choices are odd—a yellow and blue striped sweater with light blue pants and orange sneakers.

Next to the teenager stands a guy in his mid-twenties, with auburn hair and glasses. He’s dressed in a dark green hooded sweater and black jeans. He clutches a green flute in his right hand.

Artemis glances back at the man in the dapper suit. On his left, there’s a man with dark brown hair, dressed in a dark green leather jacket, a black shirt, and dark jeans. She notices him staring off at another grave, one that reads _Clyde Mardon._ His fingers tighten around a short silver staff in his right hand.

The last man on the left has curly brown hair. He’s dressed in a nondescript brown jacket and navy blue shirt, with jeans. In his left hand is a mirror—an odd thing to take to someone’s grave, Artemis thinks.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, Snart,” says the man in the nice suit. “The kid wasn’t on our side. We shouldn’t be mourning, we should be _celebrating_.” The others turn to glare at him.

“The kid deserves respect, Roscoe,” says the man in the parka (Snart). His voice is cam, but even so, there’s an authoritative undertone to it. _Don’t argue with me. I make the rules._ “And we never wanted him dead—that’s what makes us different from those freaks in Arkham.”

“Even if he was our enemy sometimes, he still saved the world,” says the man with red hair. _So they know Wally was Kid Flash_ , Artemis thinks. “That’s worth our respect, and it’s worth a proper send-off, the same we’d give if one of our own died.”

“Well said, Piper,” the blonde boy says with a half-smile. A yo-yo, seemingly pulled from nowhere, dances through his hands. “Do you think the league will tell the world?”

“Tell them what, James?” the man with the mirror asks. He’s got a strong Scottish accent. “Tell them that Wally West died to save their arses? Not bloody likely. If people find out about West being Kid Flash, it’s just a hop and a skip to figuring out who the Flash is. The League won’t risk it.”

“We gonna stand here chatting, or are we gonna get on with it?” the man with the five-o’-clock shadow growls. “I didn’t come to gossip.”

“Mick’s right, we should get started,” Snart says, taking a small step forward. “Here’s how it’ll work. If you’ve got something nice to say about the deceased, you’ll say it. If you don’t,” He stops to stare pointedly at Roscoe, who still looks ready to leave, “then keep your damn mouth shut. We’ll take turns. I’ll start.

“West, the first time I met you, I thought you were an idiot. Keyword: thought. Don’t think that anymore. See, me and Mick were in the middle of a job, robbing a museum, when you showed up, all alone. You went straight for me and I shot you with the cold-gun, full-blast.

“I thought you were some stupid wannabe-Flash who didn’t have a plan. But you did. While I gloating, Barry sprinted in and took my gun. You took the hit because you knew it was part of a bigger plan. Pretty much sums you up, West. Idiot or not, you were a hero.”

The next to step forward is James. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “Look, I’ll be honest: I never knew your middle name was Rudolph until I saw your grave. Like, uh, the reindeer. I swear, I’m going somewhere with this.

“See, you’re, kind of like that reindeer. Not because you’ve got a red nose, I mean, you don’t. You’ve got red hair, but—” His friends stare at him, bemused. “Right. The point. The point is, Rudolph never really fit in, but when disaster struck, he was the only one who could lead the way. You were kinda like that, I guess. And you both are always running around, only he works Christmas Eve, whereas you were running 24/7. Makes you the better guy, in my opinion.

“In short, Wally, you might not’ve been like all of the other reindeer, or, in this case, people, but you never let that stop you from saving them.”

Mick steps forward. “I always thought when I died, I’d have someone burn my body. Not just cremate it; I wanted it properly burnt. They’d set it down in a boat, like the Vikings used to, set the whole thing on fire, and watch it burn. I always thought that’d be cool.” Roscoe rolls his eyes at this, like he’s heard it a thousand times. “I want that type of funeral because fire, to me, is beauty. It’s what I love, and it’s part of who I am. I think that becoming one with it would be the best way to leave this world.

“And maybe they never found your body, West, but that’s okay. See, you died running. You died doing what you loved, and that—that means something. When you ran, you were like lightning. And when you died, you became part of that energy. So you’re still a speedster, kid. You’re still running.”

Piper steps forward, raising his flute to his lips. He doesn’t speak, but instead, he plays a piercing melody. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time, just like every eulogy that came before him. Some emotions, like grief, can’t be properly expressed in words—this song is saying everything Piper can’t verbally express. His friends try to keep their cool, but Artemis notices them hastily wiping tears from their eyes. She doesn’t even bother hide her own.

As Piper plays, Artemis notices the man with the staff clutch it even more tightly. There’s a rumble of thunder in the distance and she can see flashes of lightning. She watches, the yellow light reminding her of Wally. If she tries, she can almost pretend it’s him racing through the sky.

Artemis doesn’t step forward, doesn’t ask who these people are. Right now, it’s enough to hear the flute song and the thunder and know that she’s not alone.

She’s not the only one who remembers Wally West for the hero he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Snart's appearance is based of his CW version (the version of him in Young Justice just looks weird). Sorry I couldn't include all the Rogues, but I tried to include the ones I thought were most important, even if they didn't all have a eulogy to give. As for Hartley's song, you can choose any sad flute melody you like. I find that "A Narnian Lullaby" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_W7fMSBeJg) works well, even if it is a bit short. Hoped you like the piece!


End file.
